


part 4.

by hdarchive



Series: Heartstrings Verse [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Nerd!Blaine, Skank!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 22:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2206128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kurt imagined studying at Blaine's house, he never thought it would go this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	part 4.

It’s not how he planned to spend his Saturday night, that’s for sure.

Kurt checks the time on his phone and frowns, because if he weren’t here right now he’d just be arriving at Scandals for the night. Instead he looks up to where his dad dropped him off, a house that looks equal part like a castle, mansion and cozy little cottage.

It’s just so _Blaine_.

He shoulders his bag and sighs, tries to mentally prepare himself for the night ahead of him. And maybe it is his fault for blowing off every tutoring session he was supposed to have this week. Kurt just so happened to like the way Blaine glared at him all throughout class after every time he didn’t show.

It never failed to make him laugh when Blaine’s puppydog-intense stare tried and failed to burn a hole in him.

And maybe, just maybe, they were getting too close. Close, as in physically close (because Kurt’s pretty sure he and Blaine could never actually be friends, let alone good friends). When every tutoring session started to end in a heated lip lock that had Kurt tingling all over his body for the rest of the night, it was abundantly clear that it was beginning to become an issue. And kissing is nice, but Kurt can go out and kiss anybody really, and pretty soon somebody relevant is going to catch them in the act and then Kurt’s life will really be over.

Kurt rings the doorbell, then rings it three times after that for added effect. As an after thought, he really hopes Blaine’s parents aren’t home.

The door opens, and Blaine peeks his head out.

“Wow!” he exclaims, eyes going wide. “Do my eyes decieve me? Or am I actually looking at Kurt Hummel in the flesh!”

“Shut up,” Kurt gripes, moving in past him.

“I’m not prepared, this is all so sudden. Please forgive me, as I’m not accustomed to having you actually show up,” Blaine continues, and he throws his hands frantically in the air before moving towards the staircase.

If he’s trying to make Kurt feel guilty, it works. But it also makes him laugh, and Kurt stares at the boy in front of him and smirks. “Calm down, drama queen. I’m here now.”

Blaine turns around, folds his arms over his chest and his lips pull into a frowny pout. “Well maybe I don’t want to tutor you anymore. Have fun acing that biology exam all on your own, Kurt!”

In the weeks that they’ve been interacting with each other Kurt has never seen Blaine so worked up, and it’s hard for him to take it serious when Blaine’s practically performing for an audience.

Kurt stands next to him, thinks for a full moment before resting his hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “I am here on a Saturday night. I don’t think you realize the importance of this.”

Blaine slowly turns his head from where it’s pointed in the opposite direction of Kurt. His frown begins to shift into something else, and then all of a sudden he’s grinning, perhaps a little too evil for Kurt’s liking.

“Then lets get to work.”

-

There’s a lot of trophies lining the hallway that leads to Blaine’s room. A few medals, certificates, and very official looking portraits too. He doesn’t look like the Blaine that Kurt thinks he knows, though. Eyes distant and smile stiff.

His parents must be very proud.

It hits Kurt all of a sudden then, that Blaine isn’t just the school nerd. Sure, he fits the stereotype and lives up to it every single day - but Blaine is smart, and talented (and Kurt hates to admit it, but so much better than everyone else). He’s somebody’s son, and this is his home.

Kurt suddenly feels very awkward, stands straight and lets his eyes wander the halls. The image of Blaine in his head changes, more to a real person than the cardboard cutout he always pictured.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t even what I’m most proud of,” Blaine says from behind him.

Kurt turns around, pierced brow arching. “There’s more?”

Blaine chuckles a little, head tipping down. “Well, yes - but that’s not it. I have quite an impressive collection of antique robots that will blow you away.”

“You’re kidding.”

Blaine beams, shakes his head and leads Kurt to his room.

He isn’t kidding.

Along his extensive bookshelf, filled with a million books in a million different languages, are robots. Some big and some little, some that look ancient and some that look new. If Kurt were into this type of thing (if anybody other than Blaine actually cared about this type of thing) maybe he would be impressed.

Instead he makes a face, scowl twitching.

The room itself feels a little stuffy and old, but maybe Kurt only feels that way because his own bed is never made and he has his shoes covering every inch of carpet. Only his clothes are carefully organized, but that’s where the neatness ends for him.

Blaine’s bed is large and made perfectly, and his closet is slightly ajar and Kurt can see through the dark the brightness of his clothing.

He also has a collection of cameras, and more interestingly, a collection of vinyl records. Kurt instantly goes to snoop through them, doesn’t really know what to expect because it’s  _Blaine_. Kurt nods approvingly, sees artists like ‘The Beatles’ and ‘The Four Tops’ and thinks,  _sure, makes sense._

But then he’s holding an album that says ‘Disco Tex and the Sex-o-lettes’ and Kurt nearly drops it. 

Blaine flops onto his bed and sighs. “Did you want to study in the dining room? Or maybe the den?”

Kurt shakes his head, eyes never leaving the albums he’s browsing through. “No, it’s okay,” he says, a little absent mindly. The room is growing on him, he can’t help it.

But that’s another thing that Kurt’s beginning to dread. Hates studying, hates focusing on information he’ll never, ever need. But most of all, he hates how stupid he feels. It’s not that he’s not smart - he is. Kurt just has no motivation and no drive to do the work, to absorb all the info, because what’s the point?

So he sits on the floor and opens his binder, at least trying to look occupied.

Unfortunately for Kurt, however, Blaine is prepared.

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to show up, but I took it upon myself to craft for you a study chart. I’m glad my efforts were not wasted,” Blaine begins, leaping off the bed and pulling out a wide sheet of paper he stashed off to the side.  He unfolds the paper before Kurt’s eyes and it has words like ‘glycerol’ and ‘phospholipid’ and then diagrams of weird body parts and molecules and it hurts Kurt's brain already.

“Whhhy?” Kurt whines, flops onto his back and sighs. “I think it’s time for a smoke break.”

Blaine makes an audible ‘ew’ sound, shudders and shakes his head. “Absolutely not, Kurt. Unless you’d like to hear my lecture again-”

“No, no, I get it,” Kurt cuts him off, having already heard the perfectly detailed speech of Blaine’s at least five times in the past two weeks. “Lets just get this over with.”

-

“I’m not going to ask you again, Kurt,” Blaine says tiredly, eyes drooping. “The chordae tendineae are connected to…?”

Kurt is still laying on the ground some hours later, eyes hurting and brain stuffed with information that he’s sure he’ll forget come morning. He blows at the pink strand of hair that’s fallen over his forehead and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Kurt.” Blaine snaps, and Kurt can hear his head thump at the headboard loudly. “Yes. You. Do.”

“Tell me one more time.”

“No.”

“Then I guess I’ll never know.”

There’s a continuous thump to the headboard then and Kurt smirks. Suddenly the bed creaks and Blaine’s footsteps sound through the room. Kurt looks up, watches as Blaine goes to his closet and opens the doors.

“What are you doing? Running away?” Kurt asks, tone a little too hopeful.

“No,” Blaine spits back. “I wish, but fortunately for you I’m simply slipping into something more comfortable.”

Kurt tilts his head to side and watches in amusement.

He has a handful of clothes in his arms, then locks eye contact with Kurt as he marches out of the room.

It’s then that Kurt realizes it’s getting late. The sky is dark and he feels so entirely alone in this gigantic house. He shifts a little, sits on his hands and then plays with a pen and then finally gives up, thumps against the chair behind him. An entire night wasted, all the drilling they had gone through already forgotten.

And it’s a tad off putting, how distant Blaine is being. It’s weird for Kurt initially because he’s in Blaine’s house, an unknown area that belongs to somebody else, but then you add the fact that this isn’t the same boy that’s usually moony-eyed and bashful - in fact, Blaine’s a little too much like Kurt right now - and Kurt feels so _alone_.

Guilt begins to well in Kurt’s gut, and he swallows thickly as he thinks about all the tutoring sessions he had missed. Images of Blaine waiting alone in the library flood his mind, and he has to pinch his skin to snap out of it. Because it was  _funny_ , and Kurt isn’t going to feel bad about it.

Kurt’s just beginning to think that maybe Blaine will drive him home when the boy walks back into the room.

It’s like looking at a completely different person.

First of all, he’s in sweatpants. Blaine Anderson, who’s never without colourful jeans or khakis or chinos. There’s not a sweater vest or bow tie in sight, which blows Kurt away even more.

But what tickles him the most is Blaine’s choice of t-shirt (which is highly strange to see in the first place because Kurt was under the impression that Blaine had no other shirts besides collared ones).

Kurt thinks they’re Pokémon - alright, he knows they’re Pokémon, which he’ll never admit ever. Pictured on a soft grey t-shirt, and Kurt can make out a few of them, but again, he’ll never admit it.

And the shirt might be cute in a hipster sort of way, but that’s definitely not how Blaine intends to wear it.

A wry smile forms on Kurt’s lips, a disapproving glare fixing on Blaine.

“What?” Blaine squeaks out, pulling the edge of the shirt away from himself. “Do you also have a problem with Pikachu?”

Sounds so innocent that Kurt can’t keep his full smile from forming. “Not at all.”

“Good,” Blaine says, climbing back onto his bed. “Or else we would have had a serious issue.”

Kurt’s smile stretches past it’s normal point, his muscles fighting to gain control over his expression because he needs to stop right now, this is no smiling matter.

Blaine busies himself with rearranging a bunch of papers in front of him, and Kurt can’t keep his eyes from roaming everywhere.

This is a different boy than the one at school. This is a boy that only Kurt knows, and while Kurt isn’t entirely sure how to appreciate that yet, he knows it’s special.

“So my dad was under the impression that you’d be driving me home,” Kurt breaks the silence, meeting Blaine’s curious gaze. “Is that the case?”

Blaine begins to chuckle softly, a little nervously. There’s a tint of color to his cheeks and then he can’t meet Kurt’s eyes anymore. “Funny story. The thing is, I, uh, sort of haveacurfew.”

“Come again?”

Blaine sighs loudly, looks up at the ceiling and sighs again. “I have a curfew.”

“You’re almost eighteen years old.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“And when exactly did your parents force this rule on you?” Kurt asks, swallowing down the laugh that wants to escape.

“A few years ago, but they never revoked it, so I assume it still applies.”

The redness to his cheeks is near burning now, and Blaine won’t stop fiddling with his hands.

“So your parents, who aren’t even home might I add, set a curfew for you when you were what, fifteen? And you still choose to follow it?”

Blaine nods sharply, exhales and inhales. “I’ve never had a reason not to, exactly.”

“You do now.”

“Au contraire,” Blaine counters and tuts his finger at Kurt. “We have plenty of studying left to do if you’re going to be ready for your exam.”

It’s Kurt’s turn to sigh, and he lets his head fall backwards in exasperation.

“I don’t think I can take anything you say seriously if you’re wearing that,” Kurt tries, gives Blaine his best judgemental glare.

Blaine shrugs and picks up one of his papers. “If you wish to find comedic relief in my clothing choices then so be it. The chordae tendineae are connected to the..?”

Kurt pretends to think, rolls his head from side to side and brings a finger to his lips in thought. “What’s the chordae tendineae again?” Kurt asks, can’t keep the smile out of his voice.

“Kurt!” Blaine yells and flings a pillow at him.

-

It’s well past midnight and they’ve barely moved on.

Kurt’s got to hand it to Blaine though, because he gave up on himself hours ago.

“You fence?” Kurt suddenly asks, eyes falling on a certain trophy, which sort of relates to the framed art on the wall. He’s tried many different conversation starters to veer Blaine off track, and all have been unsuccessful.

Blaine glances at the award and then back at his paper. “Yeah, I took up various types of self defense when I was younger.”

Kurt’s heart doesn’t mean to sink so much at that. “You must be good.”

It’s the little shrug that Blaine gives, like he shouldn’t be proud of himself for achieving something. Kurt’s heart falls a little deeper. “I kind of have to be.”

Kurt rolls onto his stomach and stares at the lines of highlighted notes in front of him (and Blaine was right, pink does help). It kind of makes him hurt in ways he didn’t even know he could. That somebody could be so good at everything and not be allowed to appreciate it. Meanwhile there’s Kurt, who thinks he wants to be good but isn’t sure how. Because to be good would to be defenseless, and Kurt just can’t have that.

One more look down at his notes and Kurt feels his head pulse. So okay, maybe he isn’t ready to be good.

“Blaine, words cannot express how fucking done I am with this,” he spits, pushes the books and paper away from him.

“Come on, Kurt, we were just beginning to make progress,” Blaine pleads.

“We were just beginning to make progress four hours ago.”

“Then how about a study break?”

“How about we just quit?”

Something changes in the way Blaine looks at Kurt. From a begging, please please look to one of understanding - a sad understanding. Like pity. Kurt doesn’t like that look, feels himself bristling at it.

Blaine’s face changes again all of a sudden, being replaced with determination, which Kurt also doesn’t like because he is so _tired_.

“During replication, bonds form between what?” Blaine asks, sounds so firm and awake.

Kurt groans, groans again for added effect and then glances down at his notes. Scans them for help, doesn’t find it and makes a sad whining noise. “Don’t make me do this.”

“Kurt.”

He sighs heavily, flips his fallen hair back and grumbles. Kurt thinks hard, to all the lectures Blaine has given him and all the words he’s highlighted.

“Deoxyribose… and…. phosphate?”

Blaine’s face shifts into one gigantic smile and he claps his hands. “You got it!”

Kurt can’t trample down the pinch of pride he feels at that, beaming to himself.

“Next question,” Blaine starts again, and Kurt’s brain hurts far too much to endure it all anymore, so he stands up.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.”

“But you were just getting-”

He’s interrupted by Kurt getting on the bed.  

Papers crunch and shuffle under his knees as he crawls towards Blaine - who looks so tired and worn, but at the same time _cuddly_  and soft and Kurt definitely hates himself for liking it.

Maybe it’s the curls, that are semi-free from their hard hold of gel and look so fluffy that Kurt just wants to pull on them.

They kiss a lot. Or, at least as much as two boys who aren’t in a relationship (aren’t even friends) can. It’s only gotten heavy a few times. Heavy meaning that neither pull back for moments at a time, and sometimes their hands wander a bit too far or they make too much noises.

And Kurt doesn’t like how they are right now. Kurt’s the one who gets to be snippy and cranky, not Blaine. He doesn’t like how it feels when Blaine’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, how his gaze won’t fully meet Kurt’s if he can help it, and he can’t get the hurt in Blaine’s expression out of his goddamn head.

It’s annoying, and Kurt’s more done with that than the studying.

“Kurt-” Blaine tries, gets cut off by Kurt’s legs swinging over his own.

Feels bold, maybe a bit too bold.  _He’s on top of somebody_ , with his legs over Blaine’s and it’s making him a bit dizzy. It’s too late to back down now, so he presses on, lets his full weight sink on top of Blaine, hands grasping for the soft material of his shirt.

“We should really get back to-”

“Should we?” Kurt whispers as he dives in closer, lips next to Blaine’s ear.

Blaine visibly shivers, his hands tentatively finding their way to Kurt’s waist. His touch is feather-light, but Kurt wants him to  _grab_  him. So he brings his lips to Blaine’s, waits for Blaine to lean up into the kiss.

And he does, lips meeting Kurt’s for the softest kiss he has ever experienced. Soft and so pliable underneath him, tired and aching, but fighting to wake up. Blaine’s fingers do dig into Kurt’s skin then, rakes them up and down his sides as the kiss deepens.

Can’t stop the moan from escaping him, the sound right against Blaine’s lips. Both of their eyes open at that, staring right into each other, and Kurt blushes so hard that he thinks he’ll burn from it.

Blaine’s quick to capture his lips again, tilting his head to fit better, slides his tongue to meet Kurt’s.

Kurt doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, can’t stop his hips from twitching, can’t stop from rolling his body in waves on top of Blaine’s. His fingers grip and yank at the material of Blaine’s shirt some more, pulling himself impossibly closer.

“K-K,” Blaine chokes out, tears his face away from Kurt’s.

Kurt’s mouth is left gaping open, lips still chasing Blaine’s and his thighs lift slightly so that they can grind back down.

He stares down at Blaine, lids heavy, and the room is spinning around them.

It all stops abruptly exactly one second later, when he feels it underneath him. Hard and prodding, digging into his ass. Kurt’s eyes snap open, mouth falling even more. His hips come to a stuttering stop, and he places his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and tries to lift himself up gently.

“O-oh,” Kurt starts, eyes cast down between them.

Blaine is hard. The line of him visible through his sweatpants, the very sight making Kurt feel twelve kinds of dizzy and sick and  _hot_. Flushed from his head to his toes, sweat beading at his temples.

“Shit,” Blaine splutters helplessly, hands still clutching at his waist. “Oh my god, _shit_ -”

A spike of heat flares down Kurt’s spine when Blaine’s voice rasps, those words sounding ten times more dirty coming from him. And Kurt can’t stop looking to where Blaine’s dick is trying to press against him. He did that. Kurt did that to Blaine. His stomach churns violently, nausea threatening to make him sick, but at the same time he feels excited. Nervous and giddy, and Kurt finds himself smiling.

“Blaine, it’s okay, I swear-”

“This never happens-”

“It’s okay-”

Blaine finally looks up to meet Kurt’s eyes, and Kurt thinks he sees tears forming. Maybe it’s just sheer panic. This must be worse for him than it is for Kurt.

“Y-you are just,” he stutters, bites hard on his lip before continuing, “You are just really pretty,” Blaine says all at once, eyes glittering now.

Kurt blushes again, feels red color his entire body. Can’t keep looking into Blaine’s shining eyes, has to stare at the wall instead. And okay - big mistake, because there’s a fucking mirror and Kurt’s greeted with the sight of him on top of Blaine, both bodies shaking and straining for one another.

“Thanks,” Kurt breathes, and he has to decide in that moment what to do.

“We-we don’t have to do any-we should go to bed-” Blaine is still spluttering, hands flexing helplessly where he’s holding Kurt.

He’s right, they don’t have to do anything. There’s no obligation here, if Kurt wants to he can get up and walk out the door and never talk to Blaine again. Which is what he should do. Which is what he means to do.

And Kurt is a skank. It’s the label posted right over his face, one he’s worn for most of his high school life. This is what’s expected of him, he knows it. Probably what Blaine thinks he is and probably what he should be.

So instead of running he settles back down, muscles relaxing once he’s not holding himself up anymore. Blaine’s erection presses back against him, sends heat flooding through Kurt’s belly. Blaine makes a noise like he’s being hurt, face scrunching up and eyes closing.

Kurt shifts a little, lets his ass rub up the length of him, feels so dirty doing just that.

Blaine cries out, head thrown back and eyes still closed. “Holy moly-”

Kurt can’t help but roll his eyes, because  _oh yeah_ , this is still Blaine.

“What do you want me to do?” Kurt asks, gasping out the words.

The hold he has on Kurt tightens, then his hands slowly slink down until they’re nearly resting on Kurt’s ass. He grabs tighter, arm muscles flexing when he begins to pull Kurt’s body into a continuous wave against him. “Just like this.”

Sounds so wrecked, voice jagged, sending hot thrills down Kurt’s spine. He thinks he’s getting hard himself, too afraid to actually check.

Kurt’s hips undulate against Blaine in near perfect synchrony, and he cries out. Yeah, he’s definitely hard.

Kurt uses one hand to unzip his pants, pushes them down a little, and then Blaine grabs a handful of Kurt’s ass, rather forcefully, kneads at the muscles there until Kurt has no choice but to collapse against him. It’s a little surprising how such a tiny, compact boy can be so strong and controlling - Kurt feeds off it.

Loves the way Blaine’s hands are grabbing at him everywhere, pulling him closer and closer, aligning them so perfectly.

Blaine’s mouth is suddenly on his, kisses hungry and searching, tongues instantly sliding against each other. He swallows every noise Kurt makes, searching for more.

They rock against each other like that for a while longer, Blaine controlling every movement that Kurt makes. Surprisingly enough, Kurt lets him, likes the idea of Blaine taking over.

“Y-you feel so-so good,” Blaine pants, one hand coming up to pull at Kurt’s neck, pressing their foreheads together.

From this view Kurt can see the fan of Blaine’s eyelashes, the flush of his cheeks and how wet and pink his lips are. Kurt thinks he could fall in love with this view. At the same time, it horrifies Kurt to no end, has his heart dropping one hundred feet. The image of Blaine - with glasses sitting crookedly on his nose and rumbled Pokémon t-shirt tugged up and curls springing from his head - is not something Kurt ever expected to see, never expected to love so much.

So completely different from the boy in suspenders and grandpa blazers and boat shoes.

Doesn’t stop from rocking his hips down, grinds deeper each time Blaine thrusts up. The friction is so, so good it’s perfect, sends shudders through Kurt’s entire body.

He feels a bit awful because he is going to come in his pants (because of  _Blaine Anderson_ ), but then Blaine tilts his head up and meets him in a messy, sloppy kiss and he forgets all about that.

Blaine shoves his own hips upwards one more time, cock catching Kurt’s, continues to rub there and Kurt can _feel him_. One arm winds around Kurt, traps him there as Blaine ruts furiously against him.

When Blaine comes his entire body arches up, still holding Kurt, lets out a guttural noise that sounds so broken, hips stuttering against him. He’s gasping when he comes back down, and Kurt can only stare at him.

Looks blissed out and worn, limbs heavy and chest heaving, smile so light on his face.

“Kurt, you have no idea-” he starts, but then he’s grabbing at Kurt’s hips again, forcing him to grind down harder.

Kurt tucks his face in Blaine’s neck, whimpers “ _Blaine_ ,” then he’s coming with a high whine that has him arching into Blaine, legs trembling from holding himself up. His hips continue to twitch above Blaine, feels everything in him give out, cock jerking where it’s trapped in his pants.

He completely collapses, lands on Blaine harshly, keeping his face tucked in tightly.

It only takes a second for Blaine’s hand to come up and run through his hair, arm still wrapped tightly around him. He rolls them both over so they’re on their sides, relief flooding every muscle in Kurt’s body.

They lay there in almost silence, save for their panting breaths and sighs.

Blaine smiles first, wide and genuine, and there’s something soft in his eyes that makes Kurt feel like melting.

“Wow,” he breathes, and Kurt feels it on his lips.

Kurt grins, a little tiredly, and nods his head. He’s definitely laying on a bunch of books and papers, and he needs to change out of these clothes pronto, but wow indeed.

“I wasn’t that bad?”

Doesn’t mean to say it, but it was the first thing to come to mind.

“What? Kurt,  _no_ ,” Blaine is insisting, tone full of worry and earnestness. He leans closer, lips meeting in another kiss, this one gentle and not-at-all urgent.

One of Blaine’s hands touches the soft skin of Kurt’s sides, and Kurt tries not to flinch at it. He thinks it’s a bit strange, silly even, that he can do  _that_  with a boy, but the idea of that same boy touching his bare skin and Kurt’s suddenly on fire.

The kisses turn full on lazy, mouths missing mouths and eventually Kurt pulls away, is content to just lay with his head curled into Blaine’s neck.

The guilt that was building up inside Kurt is gone, disappearing sometime between straddling Blaine and kissing him and then coming with him. And Blaine’s smile is so real, maybe the most honest smile Kurt has ever seen, and it feels  _right_.

Finally the room is entirely silent, and then Blaine’s chuckling softly, his stomach shaking with it.

Kurt’s just about to ask what, when Blaine speaks. “So,” he starts, voice raspy, “Are you ready to tell me what the chordae tendineae are connected to?”

It only takes a half second for Kurt to go flying up, eyes blazing. He finds a pillow and decides his number one priority for the night is beating Blaine senseless with it.

 


End file.
